


back to back, they faced each other

by asynchrony



Series: tender mercy [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aobajousai, Childhood Trauma, Developing Friendships, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, kyoutani has ptsd and yahaba and watari are mostly good friends, that's it that's the fic, trauma is not described so make of it what you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asynchrony/pseuds/asynchrony
Summary: Yahaba, with Watari's help, navigates the labyrinth of Kyoutani's trust.(or, a fic about building friendships over the ruptures that post-traumatic stress disorder creates.)
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou & Watari Shinji & Yahaba Shigeru, Kyoutani Kentarou & Yahaba Shigeru, Watari Shinji & Yahaba Shigeru
Series: tender mercy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998919
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65
Collections: Seijoh Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> most of the PTSD content is in the second chapter, which has a spoiler in the end notes just in case you need it. no specifics of trauma happen in this fic; you can read _pictures tomorrow_ for that, but this stands alone.

  


_one fine day in the middle of the night_  
_two dead boys got up to fight_

Shigeru doesn't realize it then, pulse thrumming in his fingertips where they're digging into Kyoutani's shoulders. He doesn't realize it later that day, when Seijoh pours solemnly into their bus and Kyoutani curls into one of the single seats on the left.

A week later, all the emotions of the spring tournament beginning to wear off, he pictures their confrontation. Kyoutani, for how frightening he looks on the court, hadn't fought back. Hadn't even bared his teeth to match Shigeru's snarl. He'd gone willingly, without even flinching in surprise, pliant and attentive. Then he'd pushed to the front of the line for the bus, almost vibrating with something too alien to be eagerness or anger. Every time Shigeru looked at him on the way back to Seijoh, he'd been still and tense with his back against the window, eyes watching the rest of the bus. He was gone as soon as they pulled in.

 _Typical Kyouken_ , he'd thought. Oikawa had watched his receding figure for a moment, but let him go. _When I'm captain, I won't let him run away like that._

Something about it doesn't sit right with Shigeru in hindsight, but he flips his pillow over to the cool side and finally drifts off.

* * *

Shigeru sees that overly-still, compliant Kyoutani in bursts after that. The new school year’s started, and he can't say he's adjusting to his final year particularly well, but… Kyoutani really isn't coping with being an authority figure, and not in the way Shigeru would have expected.

"Show me how to do a line shot," one of their bossy new underclassmen near-demands, and Shigeru watches Kyoutani nod and spike six in a row (tossed by Kunimi, blank-faced as always) without explaining anything. His eyes are glassy, but Aoki doesn't seem to notice.

(His eyes are glassy in the same way, Shigeru realizes several practice matches later, whenever he shoulders his way onto the bus and claims the single seat in the second row before anyone else can, as close to the front and as isolated as anyone other than the adults can be.)

* * *

A few weeks into their third year, Kyoutani ends up in the vice-principal's office. While he's there, Coach Irihata pulls Shigeru aside.

Kyoutani had had a notebook confiscated by his maths teacher, apparently. When she'd opened it to see what he'd been doing instead of paying attention, she found that it was full of gory, explicit fiction.

Shigeru doesn't know what this has to do with him, at first. To be honest, he's a little impressed that Kyoutani can write. But Mizoguchi-sensei, clearly realizing Shigeru doesn’t see the issue, reads him a short excerpt. His visible discomfort becomes rapidly, heart-stoppingly reasonable once Shigeru realizes that the characters being tortured on a hijacked bus by faceless villains are flimsy stand-ins for the second and third years in the club.

Well. As captain, it's apparently his job to deal with this unless it gets any worse. It's raining, just a little, but he asks Kyoutani for a word outside anyway.

"Coach said I had to talk to you." The gravel crunches particularly violently under his feet.

Kyoutani grimaces. "I didn't mean— they weren't you guys."

Shigeru isn't sure what to say, so he says nothing. Kyoutani's hands are shaking.

"I don't know," he mutters into the jagged silence, then, "I'm sorry."

"Where were you?" Shigeru asks suddenly.

"What?"

"In your story," he clarifies. He's not sure why he's asking, but it feels important.

Kyoutani laughs, and it sounds like he's shuddering out of his skin.

"I'm— never mind," he says. "They make sure I don't die until they're done with all of you."

They don't say anything else until they near the gym again.

"Don't get caught again," Shigeru says, eyes fixed on the doors they’re approaching. "Keep it in your head, or something." He climbs the few steps and heads inside without looking back.

* * *

Things get better, in some ways — Kyoutani hasn't caused any trouble at all since Shigeru's attempt at a heart-to-heart, and the first-years have finally settled into decent rapport with the rest of the team.

Shigeru kind of feels like he's in one of those cartoons where there's a grand piano hanging above all their heads, and the rope is wearing thin. He’s never been good with patience, or with not knowing what’s going on.

Watari notices it, of course.

“Kyoutani’s bothering you,” he says mildly at lunch.

“He’s not — it’s nothing he’s _done_.”

“Well, no, I know. It’s more like…” Watari puffs up his chest and furrows his brow, switching to nasal English. “There’s something going on with that boy.” It’s an uncanny imitation of Evans-sensei, and Shigeru can’t help but laugh. He’d forgotten how observant Watari is. To be honest, it’s a relief to know he’s there and ready to help, on the court and off.

“That’s pretty much the problem, yeah,” he concedes. “I didn’t know you noticed.”

“You wouldn’t have told me otherwise.” Watari shrugs, turning back to his bento. “I spend enough time watching your backs to pick things up, you know.”

Shigeru’s nearly done sorting his carrots into a little pile when Watari puts his chopsticks down.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think I should do?”

Watari smiles that wry, secret smile he wears in team meetings when someone finally thinks to ask him for his thoughts.

“We should invite him to eat lunch with us.”

That’s… not what Shigeru expected.

“What?”

Watari shrugs. “I just think he needs friends right now. Don’t you?”

“I guess.” Shigeru remembers how short he’d been with Kyoutani after the whole notebook thing. It’s not like “are you okay” would have sounded anything but ridiculous, though; he’s not sure what else he could have done, but the guilt gnaws at his chest nonetheless. “I figure he mostly wants to be alone.”

“Probably. But it’s nice to know you don’t need to be, right?”

It's certainly an achievable plan of action, at least. "Let's ask tomorrow."

Predictably, the offer is met with immense suspicion. Shigeru's good at this part, though: he might not have Oikawa's knack for social engineering, but he can certainly hold his own in tenacity. Watari's sent the ball back to him, stalwart as ever, and he knows who to pass it to.

"Come eat lunch with us today," Shigeru says after morning practice, as he has every day for a while. It's so routine he almost doesn't register anything but the flat no he expects.

Kyoutani is quiet for a moment, already changed but fidgeting with his bag.

"Fine."

* * *

The intermittent lunches don't really do anything except sharpen Shigeru's awareness of Kyoutani. He shows up on random days with karaage chicken and something from the drink machine, eats quickly, and watches them chat until lunch is over without saying a word.

It's not bad, even if Shigeru's unsure whether his carefully honed patience is going to yield anything more. Watari's mellow and ready to banter, as always; Kyoutani hasn't loosened up any, but today he's brought a bag of seaweed puffs, tossing it at their feet.

"For sharing," he mutters. He settles down, then pulls out a notebook.

"Don't worry," a glance at Shigeru, a rueful half-smile. "It's just homework."

"Yeah?" Shigeru leans in, and Kyoutani lets him. "What subject?"

* * *

The alcove near the bus lot that they eat lunch in has just enough shelter to be usable in most weather conditions. Not on days like this, though, when the rain's so horizontal it can hardly be described as falling.

Kyoutani's waiting outside Shigeru's classroom when it's time for lunch.

"Kyoutani's got a spot," Watari says from right behind Shigeru before he can ask, then grins when he spins to scowl at him. "Let's go."

Shigeru trails behind the two of them, Watari's amiable questions continuing undeterred by Kyoutani's terse answers. When they reach the top floor, in a quiet corner of the school where the classrooms are only used for remedial exams, Kyoutani motions for them to stop, then scans the corridor.

"All clear," he says. Quickly, he reaches a hand through the bars on a steel-framed caretaker's door recessed into a corner, and jiggles the latch just a little. The hinges are reluctant with disuse, but the door swings open.

"C'mon, before anyone sees us."

Watari looks at Shigeru, shrugs, and steps through. Shigeru follows, latching the door behind them. It looks like a dead-end — they're easily seen from the corridor through the bars, even if they hide behind the empty trolleys and wheeled bins. But Kyoutani's picking his way gingerly through the cleaning detritus toward an small corrugated plastic panel, set into the ceiling behind some kind of chute at an upward angle. There's enough light making it through that Shigeru can make out a cinder block atop it, holding it shut.

"Is that part of the roof?"

Kyoutani shrugs. "Guess so. Wanna do the honors?"

That's a challenge Shigeru can't back down from. Making his way to Kyoutani's side, he surveys the hatch. The ceiling here is so low that he has to stoop a little. He braces his palms against the door, wincing as he feels the plastic creak, and pushes upward with his legs like he's about to jump to set.

The block thumps onto concrete above them and takes the trapdoor with it. Shigeru's prepared to get soaked immediately, but no rain comes through.

Kyoutani grabs the doorframe and hoists himself up in one fluid motion.

"Need a hand?"

Shigeru takes it, clambering awkwardly into what turns out to be a lopsided shed, built from the same corrugated plastic roofing.

A few empty drink crates bump corners around a larger one with an errant pallet precariously balanced on it. The makeshift table has a cut-open beer can on it, filled with cigarette butts so old they're barely recognizable. In the corner, there's a lantern and a portable radio, both discolored by sun exposure. The rain clatters against the polypropylene so loudly he can hardly hear himself think.

"Wow," Watari breathes, surveying the space.

"I don't like to push my luck," Kyoutani says. "So I don't come up here often. Found it last year."

Watari smiles at him, still a little wide-eyed. "Thank you for sharing it with us."

"Yeah." Shigeru doesn't have to make an effort to sound sincere this time. "This is amazing."

Wedged closely enough together that their elbows and knees knock with every movement, rain thrumming in noisy waves over their hideaway, they eat in companionable silence.


	2. Chapter 2

_back to back, they faced each other_  
_drew their swords and shot each other_

It stops feeling like Kyoutani's watching him, maybe because Shigeru's also stopped watching _him_. They've spent enough time together now to be familiar with each other, and the little internal catalog Shigeru's been making of Kyoutani's moods and foibles seems less necessary by the day.

Even Oikawa, visiting over break to say hello to his old team, seems impressed by how in sync they are.

"You two are catching up to us," he remarks lightly. "Watacchi, too. Impressive given how much more history Iwa-chan and I have."

"I don't know that being childhood friends necessarily guarantees better teamwork," Shigeru says, but he's pleased.

"Mm." Oikawa's got his thinking face on. Well, the one where he wants to look like he's thinking. "Still, though, you have been bonding, haven't you? I can tell."

"We're friends." Secret shed and study sessions behind them, Shigeru feels comfortable naming it.

"Good. Hey, Shi-chan."

"Yes?"

"I don't have to tell you this, I think, but… be careful with him."

Oikawa's gaze is distant. Shigeru follows it to where Kyoutani and Watari are talking. Kyoutani's jittery today, reminiscent of the energy he carried when the notebook thing happened. He flinches when Watari touches him on the back, and Shigeru watches as Watari pulls away apologetically. A couple of gestures and a short conversation with no visible awkwardness, then they split ways.

Shigeru's pretty sure he knows where Kyoutani's going.

"I will," he says belatedly, turning to Oikawa.

"I know. You have somewhere to be, so I won't hold you up." He raises his voice as he saunters off. "Later, Shi-chan! I believe in you!"

When he gets to the metal door, he finds that it's been left unlatched. Shigeru frowns. It's not like Kyoutani to be this careless, not with the things he holds this close to his heart.

He latches it behind him, and pops his head through the open trapdoor.

At first glance, Kyoutani's nowhere to be found. Shigeru's worried for a moment that he'll be caught snooping by whatever caretaker set this place up. Then, he hears a small, wounded sound from the furthest corner.

Before he can think too much about it, he's hauling himself up. Pressed against the wall, Kyoutani jerks at the noise. His full-body shudder threatens to topple the dubious table, and Shigeru moves to stabilize it before approaching Kyoutani cautiously.

"Hey," he murmurs, crouching with his palms open wide by his sides. "Just me." This Kyoutani feels more like a wild animal in need of settling than he's felt in a long while.

"Fuck off," Kyoutani rasps. He doesn't lift his head from the ball he's curled tightly into. Looking closely, Shigeru can see that he's trembling still, a minute motion that looks like his insides are quivering under his clammy skin.

"I can't do that, sorry." He's not sure why, but instinct tells him to revert to the light, practised tones he'd taken with Kyoutani when they first worked together. He hopes they're familiar, at least. He settles on the floor, as far away as he can be given the limited space they're working with.

"Bad day?", he ventures.

Kyoutani's making an audible effort to regulate his breathing. Shigeru watches his fingers flex against his trousers with each deliberate inhale.

"It wasn't," he eventually replies. "Got bad real fast."

"Okay." That makes sense, Shigeru thinks. He hadn't seemed off at practice. The normal thing to say here would probably be "I'm sorry", but they both know full well they're not normal people.

The wind whistles through a gap in the roof, shrill and pitying. Shigeru's phone vibrates in his pocket.

 _I'm staying close by_ , Watari's message reads. _if he's up for it, we could do ramen later_. He can't help but smile.

"You better not be laughing at me." Kyoutani's started to uncurl a little, head raised far enough that Shigeru can see his eyes. He's a little unfocused, a lot tense. "Or talking about me."

"Watari wanted to know if we wanted to get ramen later," he says, relaxing into his smile when Kyoutani huffs a quiet, startled laugh. "I think it could be good. This kinda thing can make you pretty hungry."

He still doesn't really know what _this kinda thing_ is, but he's sure it's the right thing to say when Kyoutani's gaze snaps up, considering. Maybe he doesn't need to know.

"Yeah, it does."

"I'll buy you an extra portion of dumplings, then," Shigeru decides. "I'll text Watari back whenever you're ready to go?"

"Don't help me up," Kyoutani warns. Shigeru nods and gets up himself, moving as far out of the way as possible. Kyoutani scrapes himself up off the concrete gracelessly, hissing a little and shaking his legs out.

"You'll be sore tomorrow," Shigeru notes absently. He turns to leave.

"Nah," Kyoutani says, dropping through the trapdoor behind him. He's still a little wobbly, but sure enough on his feet. "It's where I get my core strength, probably."

Angling the hatch, he places the cinder block carefully on top of it, then lets it drop fully closed.

"Let's go, they're more likely to notice us after hours."

Halfway to the ramen place the team frequents, Kyoutani mutters a barely-audible "thanks" under his breath. Behind him, Watari smiles briefly at Shigeru, and they keep walking.

* * *

There's a lot of things about their next practice match that could have gone better, but there's a lot that could have gone much, much worse.

When the other team arrives, Shigeru's waiting by the gym. Kyoutani, who's more or less his vice-captain, stiffens beside him as they approach.

Shigeru steps forward to greet their surly, long-haired captain. They're about the same height, and the darker boy clasps his hand firmly and briefly.

"Towada Yoshiki," he introduces himself, polite but not congenial. "I don't think we've met. It's good to be here."

"Yahaba Shigeru," Shigeru replies. He cracks a smile, aware of Kyoutani standing too-still at his side. "If your coach is anything like ours, though, you already know all our names."

A ghost of a smile flickers over Towada's impassive face. "I do, yes."

He moves to offer his hand to Kyoutani, hesitates, and settles on a nod instead. "Kyoutani-kun. It's been a long time. I was surprised to see your name on the roster."

Kyoutani nods back. "Towada-san," he says carefully, like he's feeling the name out. It's formal enough that Shigeru raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know your name then, I think. I'm sorry." They're both quiet for a moment, watching each other. "I… hope you're doing well."

He extends his hand, and Towada shakes it, oddly gentle. "I am, thank you. I hope you are too."

He turns to his team, calling for them to head on in, and Shigeru leads the way with no small amount of confusion about whatever's just happened in front of him.

"I didn't know you knew him," he says to Kyoutani as they set up.

"I didn't either." He sighs. "We went to a camp together, just before middle school. Didn't think I'd see him again."

That's clearly not the full story, but now's really not the time to ask. "If it gets too weird, let me know."

* * *

They win both games, though Ougi Minami's a tougher team than they'd been led to believe, forcing them into full sets each time. By the second set of the second game, Kyoutani's clearly flagging. It isn't a problem he's had before — his stamina easily outstrips anyone else on the team's by a mile on a good day. This isn't a good day, Shigeru supposes.

When Ougi Minami wins that set, Towada's team swarming him with enthusiasm they seem surprised to have, Kyoutani turns away. Shigeru follows. Presses a drink bottle into his hand.

"You look exhausted. Wanna sit this next set out?"

Kyoutani's throat works as he swallows, drinking deep. "Yeah, okay."

That quiet acquiescence, more than anything else, freaks Shigeru out a little.

No matter, he thinks. They can work it out afterward.

* * *

Afterward, as it turns out, is when things turn to shit.

They're all pleased and tired, jostling each other as they get changed. One of the first-years is slapping everyone on the back on his way to the showers, except that Kyoutani collapses when he does, folding down onto his knees so abruptly the sound makes Shigeru's own knees hurt. The room is silent for just a moment.

"What—"

"Kyoutani-san?"

"Is he having a heart attack?"

"Maybe it's a stroke?"

"Why would he be having a stroke?"

Before Shigeru can really figure out how to react, Watari steps in, herding everyone out as soon as they're remotely dressed, then shutting the door behind the three of them.

It's quiet. Kyoutani's back heaves with his breaths, but he's otherwise entirely rigid, kneeling upright with his head lowered. Shigeru's sneakers squeak on the linoleum as he takes the few steps over.

"Hey, just me," he says once again. "Just me and Watari. Everyone else is gone."

Kyoutani judders like some kind of old, rusted machine, jaw working. He licks his chapped lips.

"Please," he manages. It's not a word he's normally fond of, and hearing it in this context makes Shigeru even more uneasy.

That first word seems to unlock the floodgates, though. Kyoutani whirls, still on his knees, to face them. Tilts his head up, almost in supplication, hands perfectly still behind his back. Stares right through them, resignation and fear and nothing at all recognizably Kyoutani readable on his face.

"Please," he begs. It's clear that's what it is now, as he repeats the word over and over, shuffling closer clumsily in a way that would be almost comedic in any other situation. "I'm sorry. I'll be good. Please."

Shigeru and Watari exchange a look of muted horror. They're old enough to have some idea of the many things that can have happened to a person to make them like this, and none of them are things either boy knows how to handle.

Watari drops to his own knees and tries, anyway.

"Kyoutani. _Kentarou_. You're in there somewhere, I know. It's just us. You're safe. It's okay. It's okay."

Watari keeps up a quiet babble, talking about the weather, and homework, and a pair of shoes he wants to buy, and Kyoutani quiets and stills.

He's still swaying silently on his knees, though, wearing the face of a stranger, and Shigeru's aware that they can't stay in here forever. He exhales and steps forward.

"I snapped him out of something once. May as well try it again."

"Yahaba, are you sure—"

Before he can second-guess himself, Shigeru grabs Kyoutani under his arms and hauls him to his feet. He staggers under his weight for a moment, before propping Kyoutani against a locker as gently as he can manage. The shorter boy flinches on impact, bringing his hands up to hide his face.

"Hey," Shigeru says again, running entirely on autopilot. "Just me."

They stand there for just long enough that Shigeru's about to wonder if someone will barge in and assume he's being a bully, before Kyoutani suddenly shoves him off.

"What the fuck."

Watari collapses onto the bench with the force of his relief. "Holy shit. Good to have you back."

Kyoutani just pants, looking between them. He seems to be getting his bearings. Shigeru isn't sure whether he wants to laugh or rage, but the latter's predictably winning. He can feel the sharp pinpricks of pain where he's digging his nails into his palms, hands clenched.

"If any of what just happened had anything to do with that Towada guy, I swear to fucking god—"

"Yahaba, please—"

"He didn't _do anything_ ," Kyoutani interrupts. "I don't — I can't share someone else's secrets. We knew each other, back then. But he wasn't one of the guys who. Yeah."

"Whoever they are, they better all be dead," Shigeru mutters mutinously, but the adrenaline is slowly turning his legs to jelly as well. He staggers to take a seat by Watari.

Kyoutani joins them, after a long moment. "Fuck," he murmurs.

"I completely agree." Watari shoots him a tentative smile. "The others probably need to get to their bags soon, though, and the other team's probably getting ready to leave… what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. This hasn't happened before."

Well. Shigeru's the captain, after all. "I'll stay here and sort things out," he decides. "Watari can take you to the nurse and just say you were… really dehydrated or something. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Shigeru takes a moment after the others leave, just to pull himself together. He scrubs a hand over his face, counts to ten, then heads back into the gym.

* * *

Nobody asks him too many questions, which he's grateful for. Towada does notice Kyoutani's absence, of course, and lingers for a moment after his team's said their farewells and started filtering back to their bus.

"I don't mean to presume, but." Towada hesitates, and Shigeru gestures for him to continue. He's so tired. "Is he okay?"

"Not really," Shigeru says honestly.

"I'm sorry. My presence must have been a shock."

"He said he didn't know your name, but you recognized his on the roster?"

"I did. Didn't sleep for a week, if I'm honest, but at least I was prepared." Towada falters again. "Yahaba-san. I owe him a great deal. Would you do me a favor?"

He fishes out a notepad from his bag, and tears off an already-filled page.

"These are my details. I don't know if he'll ever want to talk to me, but I'd like him to have the option, if that's okay."

Oh. "I can't promise that I'll give it to him right away," Shigeru says, taking the note, but Towada's already nodding.

"Of course. You know him best." He zips up his bag and bows. "Thank you for the game," he says, then jogs to join his team without waiting for a reply.


	3. Chapter 3

_he lived on the corner in the middle of the block_  
_in a two-story house on a vacant lot_

Kyoutani isn't at school the next day.

"I figured he'd just follow you out, then go straight home," Yahaba says at lunch. "He actually went to the nurse with you?"

Watari nods, finishing his mouthful before he explains. Kyoutani had still been shaken, apparently; Watari had offered to walk him home, but he'd said he had a headache and gotten the nurse to call home to pick him up.

"I sat with him for a bit, though."

"I'm glad."

For a moment, Shigeru considers telling Watari about the note that's tucked into the front pocket of his pencil case. He realizes pretty quickly that, as Kyoutani had said, it's really not his secret to tell. It's hardly his secret to _know_ , as much of it as he's figured out just by happening to be there.

When he looks up, Watari's watching him closely. "How are you holding up?"

"Me?"

"Yesterday freaked me out," Watari volunteers, in lieu of answering.

"Me too." It's easier to admit to, like this. Not for the first time, Shigeru is suddenly grateful for Watari's insight.

He thinks for a moment, trying to piece his thoughts together. "It's weird. We're all meant to be thinking about… I don't know, homework, and what we're having for dinner, and volleyball, things like that. It's strange to think about how different it might be for him."

"Yeah. Well, he probably is thinking about volleyball. And homework, I hope," Watari says. "I've got what he missed this morning, anyway."

Shigeru hadn't even thought about it. "How are we going to get it to him?"

"You've got his phone number, as the captain. I figured you could sort that out?"

"Oh. That makes sense."

* * *

Shigeru texts Kyoutani about the homework before afternoon practice. He hasn't gotten a reply by the time they're done packing up, so he goes home.

He can't stop thinking about his sullen teammate. Nobody's been to his house before. What are his parents like? Surely they got told about the whole confiscated notebook thing; how did they react? Do they exist? Who did the nurse call to pick him up? Shigeru gets the feeling that Kyoutani's parents don't know about whatever happened to him years ago. Is Kyoutani even at home, or is he leaving for school, then hiding out somewhere to ride out whatever is happening when he's shut away and shaking?

That last thought makes him feel a little sick. "I'm not hungry," he says to his concerned, loving, definitely-existent family, and heads to his room.

When he wakes up, he's gotten a text back.

 _thanks_ , it reads. _not gonna be at school today but you can drop it off tonight if you want_.

 _Will do. Send me your address_ , he sends back. After a moment's thought, he adds, _Let me know if you want me to bring anything else._

His phone chimes twice just before the bell.

 _you text like a grandpa_ , then, an address.

* * *

Kyoutani lives in a little unit in an old two-story block of flats; Shigeru's hands are sweating as he climbs the stairs. The flimsy container of those dumplings Kyoutani likes creaks under his grip.

He'd second-guessed buying those, too. Kyoutani hadn't asked for anything, and maybe they're not his absolute favorite food, but dumplings have vegetables and meat in them, don't they? A balanced meal, but not one that's going to be too messy or hard to eat. Something he can take back home, if Kyoutani doesn't want them.

He's overthinking it again. As he raises his hand to knock, the door swings open.

"How long were you just gonna stand there?" Kyoutani looks exhausted, leaning against the doorframe in sweatpants and a hoodie.

"Good to see you're alive," Shigeru says, regaining his composure. It must come out a little too sincere, because Kyoutani scowls and looks away for a moment before remembering to let him in.

The place is simple and clean. There's a futon rolled up in a corner of the living room, a low table and a couple of cushions, a shelf of books and trinkets topped with a couple of plants and a small television. The kitchen takes up a single wall on the opposite side.

"My room's this way," Kyoutani says. Shigeru follows.

"Is this a one-bedroom place?"

"Yeah. We don't need anything bigger, really, since Dad's at work all day. He sleeps out there." There's fondness in Kyoutani's voice. He settles on the floor, and Shigeru follows.

"Sounds like he works hard." Then, finally remembering the dumplings, "Uh, these are for you."

"He does. And I figured." Kyoutani says, voice dry. "Hey. You're not gonna make this weird, are you?"

"Make _what_ weird?"

Kyoutani sighs. He tears the dumpling box open around the staples, slides the untouched chopsticks and the box between them, and pops a dumpling in his mouth with his fingers.

"Go ahead," he says when he's done chewing. Shigeru splits the chopsticks neatly and dutifully takes a dumpling.

"I just mean. You've seen me act all crazy at least twice now. You're in my house like that's a normal thing that we do. I don't want your pity—"

"Is that what you think this is?" Shigeru demands. God, he's talking with his mouth full. What a mess.

"You only wanted to eat lunch with me after you figured out I was fucked up," Kyoutani says, low and quiet.

"Yeah, well, that's because I was _stupid_."

Kyoutani snorts, taken aback. "I can't argue with that."

"Listen," Shigeru begins. He'd had some time to think about this last night, when no amount of tossing and turning could get him to sleep. "We didn't get along last year."

"No shit."

"But…" There's no easy way to word this. "When Coach told me that you'd gotten in trouble for writing, I was surprised. But what I was first surprised by was that you liked to write at all."

Kyoutani looks skeptical, but gestures for Shigeru to carry on.

"I think… I realized I didn't know that much about you. Before that, I thought I didn't _care_ , but I guess I did, cause I kept worrying about you. And sure, it's a fucked up way to start a friendship, but I think we're friends. I'm here because you're my friend, and Watari's, too. He picked up all your homework and organized notes, y'know. I didn't think of it."

"That still sounds like pity to me," Kyoutani mutters, but his face is less guarded than it usually is.

"I don't think worrying about someone is the same as feeling sorry for them." Shigeru hesitates. "But we're not just friends with you because we're worried. We share food, and study together, and you shared your cool spot with us, and those are all normal friend things, aren't they?"

"I guess." Kyoutani offers him the last dumpling, and he takes it. "What'd I miss in English?"

* * *

A snack run, two subjects, and some shittalking of their former upperclassmen later, it's getting dark out.

"I should probably get home," Shigeru says reluctantly. It'd been a surprisingly good evening, almost anticlimactic after how much he'd fretted over the possibilities.

"Yeah. I gotta get dinner ready for Dad at some point."

When he's done packing his things up, Kyoutani shows him to the door.

"Thanks for bringing me the homework," Kyoutani says. "And the dumplings."

"Thank you for having me," Shigeru replies. "It was fun."

He remembers, only then, why he'd had to come over. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll show up to school tomorrow, if that's what you're asking."

Shigeru feels a burst of irrepressible fondness for his ridiculous friend. "It's not, no. I just… figured you've had a hard couple of days. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, though."

Kyoutani's lips quirk up, just a little. "Yesterday sucked. Tomorrow will be better, hopefully. Thank you for asking, get out of my house."

He does.

* * *

The first-years had already had two days to pepper Shigeru and Watari with questions about what'd happened, so Kyoutani comes out of morning practice relatively unscathed the next day. He's in top form, too, every spike charged with precise, relentless power. He looks… renewed, Shigeru thinks. Like he'd exfoliated himself raw, and come out with pink, new skin, just a little too tender to be exposed to open air.

When he appears in their alcove at lunch, Watari pulls a bento box out for him.

"I made too much food this morning," he says. "Good to have you back."

Kyoutani gives him a sharp look. "If you want to bring me lunch, I'm not complaining. But you don't have to lie about it. We're friends, aren't we, Yahaba?"

Shigeru bites down on a smile. "Yeah, we are."

Watari looks between them, face utterly blank for a moment, then dissolves into wheezing cackles.

"Oh man. You must've had a real heart-to-heart last night."

"You could say that."

* * *

Shigeru remembers the note in his pencil case a few days later, halfway through afternoon practice, and nearly takes a ball to the face. Watari shoots him concerned looks for the rest of practice, but he shakes them off with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

When it's time to pack up, he volunteers himself and Kyoutani to sort things out. Once the others file out, Kyoutani turns to him.

"You've got something to say, I know."

"Not really," Shigeru says. "Just something to pass on. Towada…" He fishes the note out of his bag, and hands it over.

"Oh."

"It's just his phone number, from what I could tell. I haven't opened it since he gave it to me." Shigeru hesitates, fumbling for Towada's exact words. "He said he owed you a great deal, and that he'd like you to have it in case you wanted to talk."

"Yeah, that's what it says." Kyoutani slips the note into his bag. "Help me with the net?"

As they're wheeling the ball cart back into the storage room, Shigeru can't help but ask. "Are you going to contact him?"

Kyoutani's quiet for a while. "I don't know. I don't think he owes me anything. We were both just kids in a shit situation."

"For what it's worth, it didn't sound like he wanted you to have it so he could… repay you, or whatever. Just that he thinks of you, I guess, and wants you to have the option to talk to someone who gets it."

Kyoutani hums. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Nothing's fixed, of course. There are still days when Shigeru or Watari have to make the journey to the roof on their own and talk Kyoutani down, but there's also days when he texts them and stays home when he can see the signs, knowing there's people to cover for him.

But everything's changed, all the same: they go to the arcade on weekends, coming home with increasingly ludicrous plush prizes and empty wallets; Kyoutani scares Watari's mother the first time the three of them stay over, then wins his way into both their families' hearts with all the charm and subtlety of a cudgel; when Shigeru can't sleep, for whatever reason, there's bound to be at least one of them awake to hassle via text.

* * *

The next time they have a practice match, it's at another school. Their brand-new manager and the first-years mess up the usual bus seating arrangement a bit, and Mizoguchi-sensei asks if the third-years can sit up the back.

"We'll be at the front, and between us we'll keep the rest contained," he smiles.

Kyoutani hesitates.

"Hey," Shigeru says carefully. "It's chill if you need some space. But it might be fun, all three of us hanging out."

Kyoutani shoots him a tiny, uncertain smile.

"Okay, let's go."

They pile onto the bus, have an extremely uneventful journey, and win both games in straight sets.

On the way back, his two best friends plastered against his sides and suggesting increasingly dubious replies to Oikawa's latest text, Shigeru thinks that he wouldn't have it any other way.

_the long black hearse came to cart him away_  
_but he ran for his life and still lives today._

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two summary: Kyoutani has a couple of PTSD episodes here. In the first, he disappears to a safe space to ride it out, but Yahaba finds him and sits with him as he pulls himself together. Before the second, he runs into someone who was also a victim in whatever messy complicated traumatic event he experienced, and this leads to a major flashback-type event in front of the team. Nobody except Watari or Yahaba sees the worst of this. Kyoutani is dissociating, on his knees, and begs for mercy/promises to be good. Yahaba is horrified, and speculates very briefly about the kind of trauma that can cause this kind of flashback, but at no point does he explicitly discuss sexual or physical violence (or anything else). He snaps Kyoutani out of it by slamming him against a wall, again, after Watari talks him down from the worst part.
> 
> * * *
> 
> thank you for reading! do let me know what you think. If you prefer QRTing/replying on Twitter, the fic's tweet is [here](https://twitter.com/emdashing/status/1302025080520601600).


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